“If you write to impress it will always be bad, but if you write to express, it will be good.”
~ Thornton Wilder


“You have to actually write. Like…put words on a page. Thinking about a story or world-building in your mind is not enough…”
~ Jon Winokur


The sparrow’s songs. The jackal’s laughter.
The lion’s roar. Eve’s allure.
Adam’s strength.
One string through them all.
I am the one in all.
I am.

I’m the greatest artist of all time
Way before Shakespeare conceived Juliet
I had you in mind, my Jewel, yet
Unlike Juliet and her Romeo
My romantic tales with you end with no woes.

I am Lover. I am Writer.
Warrior drenched in blood and sand.
Ten thousand chariots, one rider. Me.
I created light. I am Light Himself.
Within, outside, and beyond time.
I am.

Stand in awe before me. Beauty Himself.
Most Amazing. Most Intelligent. Most High.
I am the One who was, who is,
Who always will be jealous for you.
I just am.

That organ beating beneath your rib cage?
It sings my praise.
Each and every breath you take
Is a testimony to my genius. No tease.
And when a strand of your hair falls, I notice.
Note this.

I am the grandest musician ever
See, I set your heart beating
And those strings that play each time you blink
I made those long before
Beethoven ever played Duh Duh Duh Duh!

For you, I am haven.
For your problems, I’m a monster.
I’m your most primal craving.
Though you know it not.

Forget Ali. I’m the greatest.
I call into your depths. And you answer.
I cancel your debts.
I destroyed your death.
I’m the depths

With a staff, I divide seas.
Dry rod flowers. Ax floats on water.
The bulldozer. I am.
When I nod, the mountains melt.
The seas? They flee when I breathe.
I do the impossible.
I am impossible.
I am.

I am.
I touch your tongues, and you spit flames.
I make you hot. Make you look hot.
But if you’d rather look warm
Then out of my mouth will I spew you.
Who’re you kidding?
I took the punishments due you.
I call many. Choose few. You.

I am.
I’m Tsidkeneu. I make you new.
I am Creator. Crazy Romantic.
I am Theos. Yah’owah. The Vyevo-Vyavo.
The Lily – not of the valley, cos I made those too.
I’m the Lily. Period.

I am.
I am the beginning. I am the end.
I am each and everything between zero and infinity.
The infinite. The without-which-not.
I am not just God. I’m also the Just God.
The God of justice. The God that just is.

I am.
Yahweh. Shaddai.
Omniscient. Omni-knowing.
Na only Me sabi as e dey do you.

I. Am. God.

Nonso John
© 2019


Upon the waters she sits
With a golden chalice of wine she sits
She’s Nimrod’s first daughter, a disguised folly.
Upon the waters she sits.

In Purple and Scarlet, her colours, she sits
She is a royal harness
A High-profile Princess
Upon the waters she sits

Like a river goddess she sits
On a wild beast so deadly
Seven horns, blaspheme is its name.
Upon the waters she sits.

Upon the nations she sits
And the church is blind as she sits
Like a tribe’s witch doctor
Her charms have destroyed my Priests
Upon the waters she sits

She’s Jezebel’s daughter, Ashtheroth’s own baby
Babylon the great, she sits
Luring Kings of the earth to her bed, Patting their backs
Preparing for their necks, a stabbing knife
But she still sits. In power.

In the church, she sits
Preaching from the pulpit, she sits
Against every authority, she rebels
But she still sits.
And have made my people drunk, she sits
Having fornicated with Kings, she still sits.

Throw her down. Rebuild the desolate places.
Time is come for the Ecclesia
The Glorious bride, to be unveiled.
Babylon the great is fallen, said I, THE LORD.

I Pledge Allegiance!

On our first date, He didn’t just grab the cheques
He also foot every bill I owed. Death.
Like literally. His foot bears the mark till date!
You see, He took them nails for the sake of my little fingernails.
He took thirty nine lashes to safeguard my eyelashes.

You guys propose on your knees
Think you’re cool.
My lover? He proposed on a tree!
With a bomb! Arms spread wide!
Blew me away. How romantic!

Strapped the bombs on his waist: sickness and sin.
Unlocked the pin,
Screamed the detonation code so my ex could hear it:
“A lie! A lie! The-Mark’s-about-turning.”
And forever changed the mark of death on me.

I pledge allegiance to the greatest suicide bomber
Not for religious fanaticism. Or political activism.
But just so He can prove His love for me!
I pledge allegiance to the greatest suicide bomber.
I pledge allegiance to Jesus, the Christ!


MISFITDing! Dong!

The alarm clock will go blaring!

Ding! Dong!

It’s sunday morning

He, on his bed, would wake up cold and tired

He knows he should go to church today

So he’ll move on to go bathing, hurrying to be in the house of the master, but he,

Would first of all, let his true master bathe him.

Masturbating, becomes the new boss.


And right there in the bathroom, he knows he’s in bondage

This right here, is not right

His wrongs are always before him, his conscience pricking.

He knows the matters of his heart, his own issues of blood.

Oh, if only I can touch the helm of his garment

He always knew the Tsidkeneu could make him new.

But like the woman with the haemorrhaging issue

He would shy away, after all, he’s seen the judgment in the silent cues.


He who has been so many times demoralized by the judging stares in the eyes of the brethren in church,

the judgment seats in their eyes, he even tried to reach their peaks and satisfy their quality list

And solely for their approval, he would sell his personality.

But it was never going to be enough, he would never fit.

In their eyes, heaven will never accept him

And no matter how many times he made it to the front pew, his history will never change. His soul could never be saved, or so they say.

Because in their eyes, He will forever remain a misfit.


After thinking about these things,

he would bounce back into bed, pull the covers even tighter on himself and stroll back into the cold unflinching arms of Sleepy Slumber.

“I’ll try again next sunday”, he says.


I’m talking about Him. and him. and him. And her and the other her.

And many others who have been bruised and sent away from the foot of the cross, because we refuse to scoot over for the knees of a “misfit.”


A misfit.

A misfit? Are you kidding me?

Since when did the body of Christ become a pack of dominoes

Did not the Master say go ye and have dominion?

Did not Christ command, to go ye after the sinners?

To explore, Excel, and see

If His excellency would not add to the church in abundance

With all goodness and mercies?

Who then gave us the audacity to prophesy over God’s child, what He has not sanctioned?

To look at God’s image and likeness and decide his fate

That is like a blinding slap to the creator’s face.

Where then, is the place of abundant grace?


We’ve used our tongues and our eyes.

We proclaim judgment over these ones with our minds.


Since when did the outer look of a book determine the content of its riches?

Is not the work of the Holy Spirit inside out?

Or was it outside in?

So why do we judge our brothers so?


Or did not the Bible clearly theorize in Matthew 5:20

Ye shall never enter the kingdom unless your righteousness exceeds that of the Pharisees

Even blind Brother Phary, sees clearly the point I with this simple poem humbly preach.

What is wrong with the church of today?


Hmmm… Wait. Hold on. Hold up. Wait a minute

This poem ain’t speaking against correction.

It only seeks to unseat the lie we’ve represented the body of Christ to be, for even the church was never supposed to be a perfect fit.


So why do we wanna behave like her.


Not this her. I mean the other her. Why do we imitate her?

She who looks as beautiful as the sun, speaks with the voice of a fairy, moves like an angel of light

She who smiles with the grace of Athena, the beauty of Aphrodites, but with the serpent infested head of Medusa.

Why do we imitate her who lures kings to her bed, patting their backs, singing their praises, preparing for their necks a stabbing knife.

Why do we imitate Lucifer’s own girlfriend?

She who my Pastor loves to call the world system.

Me? I prefer her native name: Babylon.

And just like Robert Kelly,

we’ve been messing with the …Same girl… same girl…


Or Have you not read it in your Bible?

That we and this world are never going to be a match made in heaven?

That no dating site or psychologist could ever fix this.

That we’re like two sides of a coin. Gotta be heads or tails, baby.

Two parallel lines never to collate

It is so plain.


If Jesus Himself had said that the world will always hate you

Shouldnt you be wary when all of a sudden she wanna date you?

So long as we follow Jesus, this world will always hate.

And the day the world is comfortable with you around

You should ask yourself: Am I still saved?


So when the world rejects the sinner, would you join in the game and judge him back to the world?

Sad. So sad!

If we’re so perfect, why are we not different from the do-good atheist, whose only reason for subscribing to songs about sex and the worship of money is: “It’s got a nice beat, and the lyrics doesn’t really matter…”

What a lie!


Remember that when Jesus came the first time, it was religious people that put Him on the cross.

Because he would not fit into our church programmes? Or He would not look like we expect him to?




And for those of you – my fellow misfits – who have been judged by the ones

To whom the master had said to feed my sheep.

Listen to me. I have a message for you from His Eminence.

As long as you come to me, there is hope for ya.

And as long as they keep judging you, stand strong.

He says come. feed. then see… that I am God.

Your confidence. See, my love washes you squeaky

Sounds difficult, I know

But actually, it’s like Easy-Peasy Japanesie.

However, there is one thing my church usually keeps out of the message of my word.

Your past Pastors, your lead Leaders, your Generals generally have taught you that you can come to me the way you are. It’s true.

That’s grace.

But you see, like two edged sword, grace is incomplete without truth.

Truth. Responsibility. Respond. Sensibly. To this truth.

You can come to me the way you are – my arms are wide open – but I forbid you to remain that way for longer.

Confess your sins. Faithful and Just to forgive is my name.

But no, do not stop there. Take responsibility for your actions.

Then go and sin no more.


I urge.

That we quit the blaming and the condemning.

And press on towards the mark. The heavenly glory. For you have never arrived, until you walk down the streets of gold.

You’re never perfect until you drink from the banquet table of perfection.

And You can only know you’re the best when you’re the only gunslinger cowboy still standing after all the dust settles.


– ‘Nonso John & Ezeonyeka Godswill